


A Touch of Romance

by ChocoChipBiscuit



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sex Shop, F/M, Humor, Meet-Cute, Meet-Ugly, Sex Shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3523649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoChipBiscuit/pseuds/ChocoChipBiscuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He swallows, decides to leave his phone number—puts the ball in her court, means she doesn’t have to call him, less aggressive than asking for hers—but his tongue shrivels and his heart drops somewhere south of his testicles as she starts scanning out his DVDs.</p><p>(Meet Ugly prompt: Character A works in a porn store, and character B is purchasing incriminating items.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Touch of Romance

Dog keeps his distance as the cashier rings up the customer before him. Feels awkward buying porn from a lady, but there’s still that weird sort of nostalgia to buying porn from an actual _store_ —walls, DVDs in the back, dildos to the side, lube and condoms by the register—that gets him every time.  And he’s not _trying_ to eavesdrop on the two women, but sounds like that’s why the Asian lady likes coming here too.

“We’ve got a deal right now. For sixty bucks in purchases, you get your pick of either a bottle of lube or toy cleaner. Got any preference?”

“What lube can I use for the new vibe?” the customer asks, absently scratching her scalp. Her bleached-blonde Mohawk must be recently done, since she doesn’t have so much of a hint of dark roots.

The cashier smiles, leaning forward with one hand on the counter as she pulls two small bottles from the shelf. The white plastic practically glows against the warm mahogany of her skin. “Silicone means water-based lubes only, and these two are particularly good…”

Fast-paced, twittery voice, like early morning birds. And now he can’t get that thought out of his head—her rapid gestures like flapping wings, her red fluff of hair like a feathered crest. The kind of dye-job not found in hair, sure, but maybe elsewhere. Some kind of tropical bird or exotic butterfly.

Fuck, she’s cute.

And he’s paying way too much attention to them, so distracts himself with the dildo section. Not his kind of toy—and not like he’s fucking anyone who would like to use one right now, but kinda neat to browse. Just the fucking _variety_. Plus a little curl of “fuck yeah” kind of satisfaction when he spots an oversized, veiny one clearly modeled after mutant dick. Comes in two shades too; pale green and a dusty blue-purple. Depending on if the person wants to pretend they’re fucking a mutant or nightkin, he guesses.

A small sign catches his eye.

 

_Please no dueling with the dildos._

_We really mean it!_

A snorting laugh escapes before he can catch it.

“Unfortunately, employees are included in that,” the cashier calls, a giggle folded in the lilt of her words. “I may or may not have been responsible for that sign.”

He turns to see her grinning like a fistful of sunshine, elbows propped on the counter and the other customer now gone.

“Was it worth it?”

The side of her mouth tilts up as she nibbles her lower lip with a sly expression. “Yes.” The skin around her eyes crinkles. And _fuck_ , those eyes are intense. Pale like winter storms, for all the sun-drenched laughter in her voice.

“So who won?” He walks to her, reeled in by her warmth. Hard enough to meet most strangers who don’t shy away from a scarred nightkin, harder to find one who smiles and plays. And _fuck_ she’s cute, lean and wiry, all sharp knuckles and jutting ears fitting together like some bright-edged kaleidoscope.

“Well…” she drawls slowly, straightening up as he approaches. “It was decided that while I showed _superior_ dueling skills, my weapon of choice was sadly undersized for the task. Because sometimes size _does_ matter.” She extends her lower lip with a theatrical sigh. “Also, getting bopped in the head by a two-pound dildo _hurts_ , dammit.”

Again, he snorts laughter despite his best efforts. “Fuck. Which one got you?”

“Eh, the ‘Super-Sized Hunks’ line. Good quality product—medical grade silicone— but very, ah, _solid_.”

Those fucking huge mutant dildos. _Fuck_. Would she—could she—

 _Fuck_.

“Found everything you were looking for?” she asks, derailing that train of thought.

“Uh—yeah.” Not like she’d just hop in his car if he asked. Not that she’s for sale. Not that she couldn’t find a partner _without_ the scars and mutation or even get herself off on her own because _fuck_ she works in a _porn store_ and—

“And looks like you have over sixty dollars’ worth of purchases here, so you get a bottle of lube or toy cleaner with that. Any preferences?”

“What kind of lube do you—would you recommend?” Shit. He remembers the basics from sex ed, that oil-based isn’t supposed to go with condoms but _none of that_ says what’s best for trying to please a tiny lady less than half your size.

Asking her is probably better anyway.

But hitting on her _at her work_ is fucking creepy and those jangling thoughts make it hard to pay attention as she talks about silicone and water-based lubes and even gives him tiny squirts from tester bottles and he decides to go for the water-based because it feels nice and he’s got a vague idea that if he ever got to play with her she’d want to use toys as well—

He swallows, decides to leave his phone number—puts the ball in her court, means she doesn’t have to call him, less aggressive than asking for hers—but his tongue shrivels and his heart drops somewhere south of his testicles as she starts scanning out his DVDs.

 _Shit_.

 _Tiny Chicks & Mutant Dicks_ is incriminating as fuck, and _Anal Angels: Mutant Edition_ is even worse. Then there’s _Jenny Does Jacobstown_ and _Big, Mean, Green_ and _fuck_ every piece of mutant/human fetish porn makes his dick retreat another inch in mortification as she chatters away.

By the time she reaches _Gangbang Junkies 8_ he thinks—dully—at least the worst is over. _That_ one’s pretty tame after all the others.

He swipes his card, practically runs out the door as soon as she bags everything. Escaping.

It’s not until he’s halfway home that a snippet emerges through the blotchy haze of embarrassment.

“ _Hey, this one’s pretty good! Heard they’re making a series out of these. Looking forward to it…”_

That was… fuck, must’ve been one of the first couple she scanned. Doesn’t remember which, but…

 _Shit_.


End file.
